


Fairlead

by Farasha



Series: Any Port in a Storm [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fairlead: A ring or hook that keeps a line running true, preventing it from rubbing or fouling.</i>
</p><p>"I don't want to be a pirate, I'm not interested in the life, I'm not interested in the fighting, I'm not interested in the ships. Don't care much for the sea while we are on the subject." - John Silver</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairlead

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Противовес](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351445) by [rose_rose (Escargot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escargot/pseuds/rose_rose)



Flint could not conceive of a life without the sea. It was in his blood and bones - he was steeped in it, from the time he was a young midshipman in the Royal Navy to this day, standing on the quarterdeck of the largest ship he'd ever crewed - and captain of her, no less. For a sailor to say they did not care for the sea was difficult to imagine.

Flint drifted away from the railing astern, casting a critical gaze across the deck. Eyes followed him as he moved, which wasn't unusual - a good crew paid attention to where their captain was, if for no other reason than their desire not to anger him as they complained about his decisions. The suspicion, that wasn't unusual either. Men of their stripe did not trust easily.

Contempt, though, that was new. It was in Dufresne's eyes as they followed him, sharp and accusing behind the round frames of his spectacles. It was easy to see who had voted against him, too - at one point, his crew would not have dared let him see their resentment, but now, it dwelt openly in brief glares and mutterings. It was a worthy reminder of how fragile his power was, and how much more fragile it would be when they put into Nassau.

As he descended the steps to the main deck, he told himself firmly that this was not a retreat. To cement that, Flint crossed the deck to the door below the forecastle. In his estimation, he had exactly one ally remaining on this ship. The corners of his mouth tightened and drew down into a scowl at the thought.

Flint slipped into the crew quarters without fanfare, attempting not to draw any attention to himself. He found Silver at it again, a cheeky grin playing around his lips and a piece of paper clutched firmly in his hands.

"Next item!" Silver shouted, and stomped thrice. The stomp was echoed by a decent number of the crew, which for some reason managed to get under Flint's skin. The whole proposition of this 'goings-on' had been patently ridiculous when Silver first proposed it, and it was nothing short of a miracle that he'd managed to bring even part of the crew around on it.

Flint didn't bother to listen to exactly what the next item was. He watched the crew, instead. Several attended to their meals with the air of the long-suffering, men who were blocking Silver out as best they could and seemed to share Flint's opinion of how ridiculous this whole business was. A few shifted in their seats as if they were afraid they would be next on this list, which made Flint suppress a snort - if they'd just contain themselves instead of going after Silver, there would be no way to prove who'd done what. The remainder of the crew kept at least half an ear on Silver.

One of the men started to rise from his seat, a movement he immediately aborted upon realizing that it would expose him to the crew's ridicule. It was too late, and a roar of amusement went up from the men, shoving and shouting at the hapless crewman for whatever it was he'd done to make it into Silver's report.

"You should be mindin' your own fuckin' business," the man snarled. "Surprised you can talk at all with how far you've had the captain's cock in your mouth."

It was the kind of insult that would have made most men come roaring back, but Silver merely grinned. "The whores I've had the delighted acquaintance of report no lasting ill effects," Silver said cheerily, as if the man hadn't just implied he was a sodomite. Then again, Silver didn't seem to care much what other people thought of him personally, as long as he was more of a use than a hindrance. "Besides, I have it on decent authority that the captain's cock has better places to be."

Laughter and ribald comments about Eleanor Guthrie followed, and although they missed the mark, Flint could not let the crew gossip about him with impunity. To allow it to continue would create too much of a familiarity. The captain could not be one of the men.

Flint emerged from the shadows near the door like he'd only just entered, watching the effect of his presence ripple through the sailors, bringing quiet in its wake. Silver's cheeky grin died on his face, surprise flashing through his blue eyes for only a moment before he did his best to school his expression blank. He was a poor study at it, always a little too pinched and wild-eyed. Instead of becoming expressionless, Silver looked like he was trying to play the innocent. It didn't suit him.

"Silver," Flint said, and jerked his head to the door, turning to leave the crew quarters without checking to see if the cook was following. There was a smothered snort from behind him, and he let his boot stop mid-step and come down with a hard thump on the wood of the deck. Silence descended once more, broken only by the creak of the ship.

When he judged he had properly terrified them at the thought of reprisal for their loose tongues, he resumed his steps, and heard the crinkle of paper as Silver folded up his notes. "We'll finish this later then," Silver muttered, sounding not a little annoyed.

The deck was bright after the darkness of the crew quarters. Flint paused a moment to let his eyes adjust, making it look as though he was waiting deliberately for Silver to catch up.

"Did you _have_ to interrupt? I was making progress," Silver said, waspish and sharp, glancing sideways at the captain.

"You were making a fool of yourself," Flint said, setting off across the deck for the door to his own cabin. "You should not have brushed that aside. Now that the idea has been introduced, they will not let it lie."

Silver's eyebrows scrunched together and he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something smart, but a chilly look from Flint halted his tongue. He let out the breath he'd taken with a hiss like a deflated bellows. He followed Flint across the ship in silence, without complaint, until they came to the door of Flint's cabin. There, Silver's steps took on a hesitance, and he paused in the doorway.

"Close the door," Flint said, already halfway to his desk.

Silver glanced over his shoulder before he finally stepped into the cabin. If Flint hadn't observed him making careful use of his expressions and his body language over the past few weeks of their acquaintance, he would have thought Silver's fidgeting unconscious. Now, he knew it was because the man wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to say it without having a fist introduced to his face.

"Stop hovering, I do not care to shout across the cabin at you." Flint settled in his chair with his back to the stern windows, folding up a map to give him something to do with his hands. Silver approached the desk slowly, almost as if he was wary of being here. He took in a series of short breaths, always letting them die away before speaking, until it seemed he could contain himself no longer.

"You're a fool. You must know that, don't you?" Silver asked, settling on the edge of a table. His brows were still knit in that puzzled frown.

Flint set the map aside. "Not many would dare call their captain a fool."

"Someone needs to," Silver said. He took another aborted breath, and Flint felt a sharp stab of annoyance.

"Whatever you'd like to say, have out with it. I have matters of importance to discuss with you, and I'd rather not do it while you're distracted."

Silver rolled his eyes up to the deckhead like he was praying for divine providence. Then he cleared his throat, although he kept his eyes fixed on the boards overhead, and said all in a rush, "The crew's had us in bed together since we took the ship."

Flint's first instinct was to deny it - only minutes before his men had put him in bed with Eleanor. Silver's manner said that he believed it to be true, though, and while Flint might dislike him - the man was a thief and liar, and Flint did not trust him - he wasn't inclined to disagree with him on matters of the crew.

For a moment, he let Silver squirm, watching him tap his fingers restlessly on his thighs, shift his seat on the table, watching his eyes flick around the cabin and look at everything but Flint himself. Finally, Flint broke the silence. "Aside from that, how is the crew's measure?"

"What?" Silver asked, eyebrows shooting up into his messy black hair, his gaze falling on Flint for the first time since he'd entered. "The crew? Fewer of them want to see you overboard than did yesterday - did you even hear what I said?"

Flint ignored him, pressing on with the matter he'd sought Silver out to discuss in the first place. "At the moment, Dufresne still serves as my quartermaster," he said. "That cannot abide in the long term. I do not trust him, and he does not trust me. The captain and the quartermaster cannot be at odds - it will throw the whole spirit of the ship off." He looked Silver over with a critical eye, taking in the shift in the set of his shoulders as the words sank in. "I thought you might consider putting yourself forward."

Silver stared at him slack-jawed, and Flint took a moment to savor the sight of the cook struck speechless. He would need to return to this moment and lord it over the other man one day, he was certain, since Silver had an infuriating penchant for being right.

Then Silver let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook his head, throwing up his hands. "Me, quartermaster? You realize that would only make the situation worse?"

"What situation?" Flint asked.

"What - don't play deliberately obtuse, captain, it's a poor fit on you. The _situation_ where half the crew thinks we're _fucking._ " Exasperation was in every note of Silver's words, but he also shifted restlessly from his perch, his eyes darting to the doors. Flint let him twist in the wind for a stretch of long moments, but ultimately, he understood the source of Silver's fear all too well.

"This isn't a merchant ship, nor is it the Royal Navy," Flint said, curling his lip as he mentioned the last.

"Yes, of course it isn't. I believe I would have noticed if it was - what's that got to do with anything?"

"It means that nobody would give a damn if you were a sodomite. Let them think we're fucking. It would go a long way toward explaining why I haven't shot you yet." Flint returned to his charts, affecting an air of unconcern.

"I - haven't shot me _yet?_ "

Flint looked back up again and fought off a smirk of his own. "Now who's playing deliberately obtuse? You stole from me, lied to me, encouraged a mutiny against me, and quite nearly got me killed taking this ship. None of the crew would be the least bit shocked if I had you flayed to death before the mainmast."

Silver's throat bobbed in a gulp, and something wary crept into his expression. "Why in hell would you make me quartermaster, then?"

"Firstly, I can't make you quartermaster, the crew has to vote on it. Secondly, I want you in the position because you're the only person left on this entire bloody crew that isn't afraid to tell me exactly what you think."

"On the contrary," Silver said, a bit faint, "I'm properly terrified of you. I'm just smart enough to know that I don't have a prayer against you in a fair fight, and I'm unlikely to get a chance to slit your throat in your sleep. Nobody but you has the ability to command an assault on the _Urca's_ treasure, and so it is in my best interests to remain in your good graces. Plus you-"

Silver's teeth clicked together on whatever he was going to say next, and Flint found himself leaning forward in interest.

"I what?" he pressed, watching Silver's face flit through embarrassment, then frustration, then determination.

"You want someone to talk to you like a person, not a captain," Silver said. "That's what you got from Billy, and from Gates. They both had the balls to tell you when you were being a fool. You need a different perspective. I provide that."

"You've answered your own question then," Flint said. "A captain needs a fairlead. Gates was mine, moreso than Billy, but they both served that function during their tenure. Dufresne turned out to be a poor study at it. You, I think, will be a good fit."

Silver shook his head. "The quartermaster must be first over the rail," he said. "I would much rather hide below until the fighting is done, moreso now that you don't have a vested interest in making sure I don't get killed."

"You wouldn't get away with that even if we were fucking," Flint said. "You'll have to go over the rail or the crew will have you by the board."

"I'm a fair swimmer," Silver said, but the cocky smile he tried on was brittle, and Flint could see the shine of panic in his eyes. Flint remembered what he'd said after they took the ship. _I don't care much for the sea._ Someday, if Silver didn't find himself on the wrong end of someone's pistol and if they ever had an honest conversation, Flint would ask him what he'd been doing on a ship in the first place if he disliked it that much. Silver tapped on the table, apparently disconcerted by Flint's silence and his long, unbroken stare. "The crew doesn't even like me. They'll not vote for me - especially not Dufresne and his lot, they still remember that I stole from them."

"You're ingratiating yourself to the crew. Somehow, this ridiculous plan of yours is actually bearing fruition. If you continue down this way, the men will see you as the only reliable source of information on the ship - which I'm sure was your intention." Flint held his gaze. He knew Silver could still lie frighteningly well whether you were looking him in the eye or not, but Flint preferred to try and track the subtle shifts in his expression.

"You just said yourself that you don't trust me or like me. You've threatened to kill me before, and if I don't mistake my guess, I'll say you meant to threaten me again just now." Silver's tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Flint found himself leaning further forward over the desk. Truthfully, the crew's suggestion of their familiarity hadn't been an unwelcome thought, especially not with Silver as he was now, bright-eyed, mind working quickly to keep up with Flint. "A ship's captain and quartermaster can't be at odds."

"I don't trust anyone," Flint said. "It isn't personal - and we aren't at odds, if what you say about the _Urca_ and your part in it is true." He rose from his chair with a scrape of wood over the decking and rounded the side of the desk. "All rational reasons aside, I find myself harboring a strong desire to keep a very close watch on you. If you agree, and the crew votes for you, then you'll be beneath me directly."

Silver's whole expression froze, then, his eyes darting away from Flint's to skip down his body for a split second before returning to his face. Flint couldn't help the smirk that curled across his lip, when he caught the slightly glassy look in Silver's eyes, as though his mind had settled on a notion he was trying not to think about. Flint had a distinct feeling he knew which notion that was.

"You did that on purpose," Silver said, with far more conviction than was spoken of in his expression. "Is this your way of saying I should be ingratiating myself to _you_ as well?"

Flint stopped when there was still an arm's length of space between them. Silver was rigid, now, one hand curled around the edge of the table like he was preparing to launch himself from it at the slightest provocation. "I think you're the kind of man that takes advantage of a situation when he sees it. I think you're the kind of man who thinks that if the crew says he's warming the captain's bed, he might as well take all the benefits that come with it."

"You'd consider fucking you to be an advantage," Silver said.

"You won't be the one doing the fucking," Flint said, and stepped closer, leaning in even as Silver leaned back. "I think you do see it as an advantage. You think that if we are fucking, I might _possibly_ be less inclined to shoot you at my soonest given opportunity."

"I can't say you're being very encouraging," Silver said. For all his protesting and his wariness, he let his knees fall apart for Flint to step between them, let Flint lean his palms on the table and trap Silver where he was.

"That depends on whether or not you're worth my time," Flint said, a barb he knew would hit his mark. Silver might be many things - thief, liar, manipulator, and evidence was stacking up toward sodomite by the minute - but Flint did not think he would abide the implication that he was a poor fuck.

He was right, as it turned out, and Silver pushed off the table, his boots hitting the deck. It put them flush against one another, and Flint could now feel with irrevocable certainty that Silver was interested in the proceedings. He flashed that infuriating cocky smile, but made no further move. Heat built between them, palpable and tense. Then Silver licked his lips again, still smirking, and Flint surged forward, pinning him against the edge of the table and crushing their mouths together.

Silver moulded against him like he was liquid, pressing into Flint chest to hip. His hands moved, but then hovered uncertainly - it seemed he still wasn't quite sure how far Flint would let him go before the other shoe dropped. Flint tangled one hand in Silver's hair - filthy and smelling of stale seawater - and bit his lip. Silver made an indignant noise that turned into a stifled groan when Flint used his grip to tilt his head back, forcing his mouth open.

When they parted, Silver's eyes were near black and his breath came shorter. "All right," he said, "I am certainly beginning to see the advantages of the situation."

"You talk too much," Flint said, using his free hand to pull at his belt. Silver's hands finally started moving at that. He pulled the belt off and laid it aside with care - there was Flint's loaded pistol in it, and Flint huffed a small chuckle that Silver might want it out of arm's reach.

Silver merely shrugged and started in on the laces to Flint's trousers. They were undone in a trice, quick enough that Flint might say Silver was eager - and Silver certainly wasn't shy about reaching inside to wrap his long fingers around Flint's cock. He paused, then, not hesitant but still cautious, even as Flint rolled his hips into Silver's grip, one hand still tangled in his hair. "Well, James? What now?"

"Captain," Flint grunted, and tugged on Silver's hair, stepping back to give him enough room to kneel.

Silver wrinkled his nose. "Rather arrogant of you," he said, but nevertheless dropped to his knees, leaning forward to lave his tongue over the head of Flint's cock.

He wasn't shy about this either, and Flint was now certain he'd done this before, probably with some frequency. Silver's hands came to rest on the bunched fabric of Flint's trousers, and he opened his mouth wide to take him in, tongue flattened on the underside. It was smooth and hot, and Flint had to admit Silver looked damned pretty like this, blue eyes blown black with lust, mouth wet and red around him. Flint tightened his grip in Silver's hair, holding him still, and rocked his hips.

The sudden, sharp scrape of teeth made him hiss and pull Silver off him, glaring. Silver glared back. "Don't you dare," he said.

"You're the one with my cock in your mouth," Flint said, pulling on his hair to try and make him continue.

"I'm also the one with my _teeth_ on your cock, so if you'd like to continue attempting to choke me, be my guest - but it'll be the last time you do it to anyone." Silver's voice had lost all its playful cockiness, and was now firm as steel.

"I take your point," Flint said, and while he didn't release his grip, he did loosen it until he was more cradling the back of Silver's skull than he was pulling on his hair.

Mollified, Silver took him in again, this time with a hand wrapped around the base of Flint's cock in case the captain got any more ideas. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, lips wrapped safely around his teeth and tongue swiping across the head every time he drew back.

"You're good at this," Flint said, voice roughened but still steady. Silver merely looked up at him, lips stretched around Flint's cock and spit sliding out of the corner of his mouth. It was a pleasant sight, one that Flint thought he might have more often now that Silver had hung up his civilized concerns. A thought came unbidden, that it had been such a very long time since he'd had this, since - but he shoved it away lest he lose himself from the moment. Flint held Silver's gaze, watching with satisfaction as Silver's eyes lost focus and turned glazed, then fell shut. Slowly, as if waiting for Flint to try to press forward again, he let his hand fall away and took him deeper until he was swallowing him down.

That made Flint curse and bite his tongue in an effort to hold himself back - he wanted nothing more than to hold Silver's clever mouth in place and fuck down his throat, but the threat of teeth was enough to keep him in check. Silver made a small noise in the back of his throat, one that sounded almost smug and brought more oaths to Flint's lips.

Silver pulled off with a wet, obscene pop. "I'm sure you're enjoying yourself, _captain_ , but what am I to be getting out of all this?"

Flint took a moment to find his voice, and tried his best to keep it level - Silver had enough to be smug about already, without giving him any more reason. "Get up."

Annoyance flitted over Silver's face. "What a romantic. I expected no less from a gentleman," he said, but clambered to his feet nevertheless. Flint grabbed his hips and spun him around, pressing one hand between his shoulders to bend him over the table. Silver sucked in a breath and let it out shakily.

"I did say there would be fucking," Flint said, and reached around to undo Silver's trousers. "You asked what you were getting out of it."

"Perhaps I'd rather stay on my knees," Silver said.

Flint yanked Silver's trousers down and kicked his feet apart, still pushing him flat onto the table. "That is something I never thought I'd hear you say. You are remarkably adaptable, aren't you, John?" Silver's body was only lightly tanned, still pale under his trousers. Flint rucked up his shirt, baring his back, and swept his palm over the unscarred skin. "It's managed to keep you prettily in one piece for this long."

"Have you been watching me, then?" Silver asked. He braced his elbows on the table and twisted to look over his shoulder. He had that smirk back on his face, apparently resigned to Flint's whims, and this time it looked flirtatious.

"Whenever I am able, though not for this reason," Flint said. He covered one cheek of Silver's arse with a broad palm, spreading him open. He spat, saliva landing on the tight-furled hole and dripping. Flint pressed the flat of his thumb there and Silver's shoulders tensed.

"You must have something else," he said, pushing against the captain's grip. Flint put his other hand back between Silver's shoulders and shoved. "Damn you, Flint, you'd better be careful."

"Need a delicate touch, do you?" Flint asked. He pushed his thumb in slowly, hooking it inside and pulling. Silver came up on his toes with a choked-off curse. "Relax, I'm not in this to make you bleed."

"Could have fooled me," Silver snapped. His back was still tense, but he stopped trying to squirm away when Flint gathered another mouthful of saliva and spat again, spreading it around before withdrawing his thumb and pressing back in with his middle finger.

Silence save for heavy breaths fell between them as Flint worked him open, slow and careful, not lingering but neither pressing too quickly, keeping his fingers wet with spit. Sweat broke out on Silver's back, sheening his shoulders, and his forehead rested against his folded arms, breathing in long, heaving pants.

Flint had three fingers deep in his arse by the time Silver pushed back, demanding more. "Ready, then?"

"Impatient?" Silver returned, muffled by his arms, but he stayed put as Flint withdrew his hand and spat once more in his palm, slicking it over his cock, which by now had become quite hard and impatient indeed.

Silver tensed as soon as Flint stepped in closer, the head of his cock nudging against his arse, and Flint smoothed his hand over the bare, tanned skin of his back. "Come on," he said, and now he couldn't hide the roughness to his voice, not when he was this close to being inside the tight, clinging heat he'd just had around his fingers.

"I don't make a regular habit of this, you know," Silver said, but he took a deep breath and let it out. Flint pushed, and Silver's breathing hitched on a gasp when the head of Flint's cock breached him.

"You _bastard_ , Flint, _fuck_ ," Silver ground out, shifting like he was trying to squirm away.

Flint was only halfway to bottoming out, but he tightened his hand around Silver's hip and forced himself to stop. "All right?"

"Don't you dare stop now," Silver gasped, and that was enough for Flint - he continued his progress until he was all the way inside, his grip on Silver bruisingly tight, watching his ribcage heave with deep breaths. Silver pushed back against him and bit out another quiet, " _Fuck_ ," and then, "go on."

Flint moved slowly at first, pulling back halfway before screwing in again, grinding his hips against Silver's arse. Silver made muffled noises against his arms, riding it out. Flint stroked his hand up to the back of Silver's neck, thumb skimming over the knobs of his spine, and Silver shuddered at the touch. Flint growled and thrust into him hard enough to send an echoing smack through the cabin, wringing a surprised yell from Silver that was too loud to be mistaken for anything but the voice of a man getting thoroughly fucked.

"Yes." Flint repeated the motion, wrapping his fingers up in Silver's hair again and pulling him up so his back bowed and his neck arched back. "They think you warm my bed? Let them _hear_ it and watch you and know you have the captain's ear."

Silver tried to brace himself and his hand skidded on the table. Flint's grip on his hair tightened, holding him up, and he rocked back into Flint's harsh, bruising thrusts. Silver’s lip was caught between his teeth to try and stifle the noises that Flint wrung from his throat. At Flint's words, he opened his mouth like he wanted to speak - Flint leaned forward, pressing his chest against Silver's back and shifting the angle, and all that spilled out of Silver's mouth was a long, garbled groan of syllables. It might have been words, or curses, or Flint's name, but Silver seemed quite beyond intelligible communication.

He was tight as a vise around Flint's cock, and Flint knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He kept driving into Silver in short, hard strokes that must have punched right against the good spot inside, from the way the pitch of Silver's voice changed until he was strangling back wails. Flint bit the side of his tongue to stave off his climax. Silver was shuddering and clenching around him, still tripping over his words until his tongue finally shaped a plea.

"Mercy, _mercy_ , captain," Silver gasped, twisting in Flint's grip. His hands scratched at the wood of the table, nails scraping, and there was a tremble in his thighs that said he was right on the edge. He couldn't get the leverage to reach underneath the table for his cock, and Flint had him entirely.

Flint chuckled in his ear and pressed in deep, grinding hard. "Just in case you get any ideas about who's controlling who in this arrangement," he said, breath hot and panting over Silver's neck, "remember yourself like this, bent over with my cock up your arse _begging_ me to give it to you."

"Arrogant - prick," Silver said, teeth gritted, pushing back with what little advantage he had in an attempt to get Flint moving again.

"What happened to 'mercy, captain?' You'll shift tactics quick as a wind if you're not getting what you want."

"Whatever works." Silver finally found purchase with one hand and drove himself hard upon Flint's cock, pulling against the grip on his hair in a way that had to be painful. Flint released Silver's hip and reached around to take Silver's cock in a loose fist, moving with him, satisfied by the way he shook and gasped out blasphemy and finally tightened down so hard Flint had to stop moving as he spilled onto the deck below the table.

Flint let go of his hair and laid him down flat on his chest, slowing his strokes into Silver's quivering, spent form. He pulled the cheeks of Silver’s arse apart again, watching himself fuck until Silver's hand slapped down on the table, hard, and he said, "Captain, god _damn_ you!" He sounded wrecked and pushed to the edge of his endurance, and that was what finally tipped Flint over. He pushed in deep and harsh and came with his eyes closed, savoring the last, wrung out whine from Silver.

They were both panting and sweat-soaked when Flint peeled himself from Silver's back and withdrew. Silver tried to hide his wince but couldn't entirely, moving gingerly as he stood from the table. His right hip was reddening with finger-shaped bruises, his hair tangled and disheveled, and the look on his face was one of stupefied bliss.

"You look good like that," Flint said, jerking up his trousers and tucking himself away. "Most of the weather deck will have heard your caterwauling. The way you talk, I should have known you'd howl."

Flint had never seen Silver color, had only once seen him truly furious, so it was with fascination that he watched a red flush climb up the man's neck and into his face. He dressed himself, making a face as he hauled his trousers up, presumably at the mess. "I don't intend to bend over for you whenever you get it into your head to manhandle me."

"I'd be quite disappointed if you did," Flint said. "Let's not insult ourselves by pretending you didn't enjoy it, though."

Silver considered that. Straightening his clothes, he leaned back against the table, stiffening only slightly when his sore arse rested against its edge. "No, I won't pretend I didn't," he said. "The question is what _you_ were attempting to accomplish. I don't flatter myself in thinking I'm first to your tastes. Was it that business about letting the crew know I have your ear? You made it quite clear you're in control here."

"Who else does the captain confide in?" Flint asked. "If not the quartermaster - in whom my lack of trust is no secret - then surely the one I'm fucking will know at least a little of what occurs behind my closed door. They'll start approaching you now. Believe me."

"So - your aim was to help me?" Silver asked, brows drawing together in the same frown he'd had before he entered the cabin in the first place.

Flint shrugged. "Call it what you will."

"Anything you'd like me to pass along to the crew, then?" Silver asked. His face was closed off once more, wary and calculating.

"We'll be anchoring out of sight of Nassau," Flint said, settling back into his seat behind the desk. "I want to speak to Hornigold at the fort, first, before we bring the ship within its sights. Don't let it slip right away. Sit on that until we're closer to port, then slip it into one of your reports."

Silver nodded slowly, pushing himself up off the table. "I'll just. Go, then."

Flint ignored him, turning back to his charts. Silver's steps were slow as they left the cabin, and Flint watched his retreating back, trying to determine whether it was soreness or hesitance. The answer didn't come to him by the time Silver opened the door and exited. 

Flint had half-hoped he'd be better at reading the man, now, but it seemed it wasn't to be. At least this way, he could keep Silver close. He was too clever by half, which made him a valuable asset but also a risk. If Silver was tied to the sea the way Flint was, it would be easier, but he wasn't. So Flint would tie him to the ship in another way. He might even be able to keep him in line - and if not, it was no great hardship to take advantage of the arrangement while he could.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into _Black Sails_ fandom, so I hope it was a good one. Special thanks to excellent beta work by ht-pantu.


End file.
